


Finding Your Feet

by Guanin



Series: Antipodal Shadows [7]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guanin/pseuds/Guanin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts directly after "Falling". </p><p>Jim starts relaxing around Oswald again. Maybe a little more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Your Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos on the last fic. You guys are awesome! I love you all!
> 
> Sorry this story so much shorter than the previous ones. It just worked out that way. In further bad news, real life is going to be interfering this week, so the next update will take a little longer than usual, since I'm not going to have as much time to write. Sorry, guys!

Jim’s arm around his back felt like a blessing. When Jim tugged Oswald to him, Oswald almost gasped with joy, his head coming to rest naturally on Jim’s chest, the new angle between them not permitting anything else, like he wanted Oswald to nestle himself there. Could he? Jim wasn’t objecting. His right hand stroked down Oswald’s arm, as if seeking to share his warmth with him. 

“Thank you,” Oswald said, meaning not only Jim’s acquiescing to Maroni’s demands, but allowing Oswald to be near Jim again as well. God, he had missed Jim so much. And now Jim was touching him. More than touching him. Jim was hugging him and holding him close, the strength in his voice determined to keep him safe. Oswald had not dared to hope for so much. 

He had thought that Jim would change his mind after Oswald showed him such tangible evidence of what Maroni would do if Jim insisted on defying his wishes, especially after Oswald mentioned Barbara. Jim would never let harm come to someone he cared about. But Jim was specifically trying to keep Oswald safe. Just him. He was putting aside his hallowed principles for Oswald. And, in the process, tarnishing a bit of his soul.

Oswald could hardly claim that he hadn’t expected it or even calculated such an unfortunate circumstance into his overall plan to become a pivotal figure in Gotham. If Jim was to help him, he would have to bend. Oswald would repay the life he owed by helping Jim take down some of Gotham’s criminals, including Oswald’s enemies, and, in turn, he would persuade Jim to grant Oswald all the leeway he needed. Of course, he would never corrupt Jim completely. The very thought was horrifying. Jim was a beautiful angel of justice. Destroying his indomitable spirit would be a crime, one that Oswald would shudder to commit. But he had failed to include one potential variable in his calculations. He had never thought that he would fall in love. 

Jim’s lips touched his scalp, feather light. Oswald held his breath, forcing his body to lie still and not react lest he scare Jim away. Five days thinking that he had lost him and now Jim was kissing him. On the head, still unsure, but kissing him. And he knew that Oswald would feel it. There was no way that Oswald wouldn’t be able to perceive such wonderful contact. He embraced the pain in his swollen skin, grateful for it now that it had brought Jim back to him. Hope began to dance within him again, star bright. 

Jim was too good to him. Oswald could break him in the long run, stealing the ideals that Jim cherished so and crushing them into dust. And he might let Oswald do it. That was the tragedy of it. Jim Gordon could lose himself in Oswald’s darkness and forsake the good he meant to do, becoming a shadow unwilling to face itself in the mirror for shame. Never one of the greedy drones who happily took their bribes, ignoring the blood baths that resulted from their uncaring pettiness, no. Jim could never sink so low. Those men were cockroaches compared to such greatness. But he would never be the pure, honest being that had such faith that Gotham could exist without a corrupt bureaucracy dancing to the tune of criminals and killers. The instant he sabotaged his own case to make Oswald’s life a little easier, he would take the first step to become that which he hated. If Oswald were a good man, the kind that Jim deserved, he would urge Jim to stay away from demons like him. But he had never been, nor had he ever aspired to be, a good man. His was a selfish nature. He loved Jim Gordon with all his heart, but he could not, would not, cease being himself. 

If Jim wished to walk away from him again, Oswald would let him go. He would mourn in silence for the glory he had once held so close. But Oswald would never be the one who told Jim to go.

```````````  
“We should put the ice pack back on,” Jim said after a few minutes of silence. 

He lowered his arm and Oswald sat back up. Jim placed the ice pack over Oswald’s eye again, then abruptly let Oswald take it when his left hand almost rose up to cradle the left side of Oswald's face.

No. He would not be doing this now. It was too soon after Barbara, Oswald was injured, and Jim was about to compromise himself over him. Starting anything of the romantic sort with this much confusion smothering his brain would be idiotic. He didn't know what the hell he wanted right now, just like during the last five fucking days, and now was not the time to sort it out. Later, when Oswald wasn't looking at him like Jim brought the dawn with him.

"Did you drive here?" Jim asked. 

"Yes."

"With your eye like that?"

"It wasn't too bad."

"You can barely open it. I can drive you home."

"There's no need for you to do that."

"Yes, there is. I'm not letting you drive like this. I can take a cab back home."

"I live on the other side of town. A cab would cost a fortune."

"Then you can stay here."

He paused, playing back in his head what he had just said. 

"Really?" Oswald said, frowning at Jim.

"Yeah."

Friends stayed over at each other's apartments. They did that.

"Is the couch okay for you?" Jim asked. 

"Yes. It's very comfortable."

"Great."

Great. 

Oswald stayed on the couch and Jim in his bed and he spent the whole night immersed in dreams of Oswald lying in his arms, curled up against him, so warm and vital,, their hands twinning together as Oswald kissed Jim's forehead, then his mouth, then down over his chest, following the heated trail with teasing hands, reaching lower still until pleasure exploded behind Jim’s eyelids.

The harsh trill of the alarm clock rocked through the room. Jim slapped at it, knocking it off the side table in his haste to shut it up, and dropped back on the bed, panting, as hard as he had ever been. Fuck. He jerked off in the shower, refusing to picture anyone in particular and almost succeeding, until those last two seconds when the loving look Oswald had given him in the hospital mingled with the feel of those elegant fingers on his skin snuck in and Jim came, muffling his cry in his forearm, collapsing against the tiled wall.

Oh, sweet Jesus.

Oswald was still asleep when Jim entered the living room, his light snores audible from the kitchen. He was curled up on his side on the couch facing outward, the fleece blanket that Jim had given him folded in two and pulled up to his chin, hair sticking up in even more tuffs than usual. The adorable image was marred by the livid bruise spreading out from his left eye. The swelling appeared to have gone down a bit, though. He should be able to drive well enough now. Jim should let him sleep a little more to further the healing process, but he had to go for work soon. He could, he supposed, let Oswald sleep and leave a note. Then Oswald could leave whenever he wish. But that would mean leaving his spare key as well, since the lock on his door was an old one that required you to lock it from the outside. And, while he was okay with Oswald being alone in his apartment (a fact that he refused to stop and analyze), giving him a key was a step too far. 

Reluctantly, he shook Oswald’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he said when Oswald’s eyes fluttered open. His left one opened fully. Good. “I hate to wake you up, but I have to go to work soon.”

“That’s okay,” Oswald mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. 

He sat up, scratching the back of his head, the blanket falling down to his waist. The navy blue t shirt Jim had loaned him to sleep in hung loosely on his leaner frame and Jim’s eyes lingered on his exposed collarbone and bare arms, so pale that they looked like he never got any sun. He probably didn’t. Jim had never seen him in anything other than a suit, even when he visited Jim. The pillow had left a crease in his right cheek, which made Jim smile.

“How does the eye look?” Oswald asked.

“Better. You still need to put ice on it, though, and a warm pack tomorrow to stimulate blood flow.”

“I’ve had these before, Jim,” Oswald said, smiling. “I know the drill.”

“Yeah, you told me.” 

Standing up, Oswald started folding the blanket. Ordinarily, Jim would have told him to stop, that it wasn’t necessary, but he had quit bothering after the umpteenth time that Oswald had picked up for him when Jim was ill, refusing to take no for an answer. 

“Am I cleared to drive?” Oswald asked.

“Yes, you’re cleared.”

“Fantastic. I’ll drive you to work, then.”

“There’s no need. The station is in the opposite direction from your apartment.”

“It’s not that far. We’re leaving at the same time, anyway.”

So Jim let Oswald drive him to the station, only he had Oswald drop him off a block away so that he wouldn’t be seen getting out of a gangster’s car right in front of the GCPD on the day when he was going to do said gangster a favor. 

When Captain Essen called Harvey and Jim into the office to inform them that one of the witnesses in the Masi case had backed out and that there was little point in pursuing it, he didn’t object. Picturing the nasty bruise on Oswald’s face to counteract the churning in his stomach at what he was about to say, he said that the bastard would have probably gotten off, anyway. This declaration was followed by a pause. A long pause, accompanied by twin stares of utter shock aimed straight at him. 

“What did you just say?” Harvey finally said, looking as befuddled as if Jim had just kissed him. 

“I think,” Captain Essen said, equally perplexed, “he’s giving up on the case.”

“That’s the impression I got.”

“Guys,” Jim said. “I’m right here. And I thought you actually wanted me to quit pursuing this and _see sense_.” 

He spoke the last two words sarcastically. 

“But you never do,” Captain Essen said. “It’s just so unlike you.”

“Yeah, man,” Harvey said. “This is just weird. Like world ending weird.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Well,” Jim said, “it’s not like the DA will want to prosecute, anyway.”

“Since when do you care about that?”

“Do you want me let this go or not?”

“Alright,” Captain Essen said, lifting her hands in surrender, though she still looked at Jim like he had lost in his mind. “I’m not going to get into a fight with you when you don’t actually want to give me one.”

“Did Cobblepot have anything to do with this?” Harvey asked Jim after they left Captain Essen’s office. 

“Why do you ask?”

“Come on. I don’t need to explain the Maroni connection.”

“I realized the futility of the situation, Harvey.” Jim said, sitting at his desk. “That’s all there is to it.”

Harvey sat down as well, leaning over his desk to peer at Jim.

“In other words,” he said, “yes.”

Jim dropped back in his chair, staring up at the unhelpful ceiling.

“I may have spoken to him,” he said at last.

“After he called you yesterday?”

Jim frowned at him.

“You think I didn’t notice that?” Harvey asked. “You were cranky as hell afterward.”

“Fine. He came over last night.”

“And he talked you out of it.”

“And he had a black eye. Maroni gave it to him. Part of his threatening someone I care about tactic. He would probably have gone after Barbara next.”

“Maroni hit his own guy?”

“Yeah.”

Part of Jim wanted to tell Harvey the rest of Oswald’s ploy, but it was best if that stayed between him and Oswald for now.

“Maroni thinks that Oswald is a little too close to me,” Jim said. 

“That would be right.”

Jim said nothing, remembering a dark head nuzzling comfortably on his chest.

“Well,” Harvey said, “this case was too dangerous, anyway.”

He shuffled some papers around on his desk, obviously not reading any. Jim waited for it.

“So,” Harvey said after a while. “You two are talking again, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“We’re still friends, Harvey.”

“Alright. I’m not going to ask. I know you don’t want me to.”

“Thanks.”

````````  
“So he caved this time, huh?” Maroni asked when Oswald arrived at the restaurant later that morning.

“Yes. I just had to find the right button to press.”

Oswald swallowed the bile in his throat at having to talk about Jim in such a dismissive manner.

“That’s what it’s all about. It’s handy for me that that button is you.”

Maroni patted him on the arm, then took Oswald’s chin in his hand, inspecting the damage he had inflicted.

“I’m sorry I hit you so hard,” he said. “That’s quite a shiner you got there.”

“That’s alright, Mr. Maroni. It was my idea, after all. It will heal soon enough.”

“Please.” Maroni lowered his hand, smiling. “Call me Sal.”

Oswald returned the smile.

“Sal.” 

```````  
“The case is dead,” Jim said on the phone with Oswald after his shift. “One witness backed out before I even got here today. It was probably going down without me backing off, anyway.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to keep saying that.”

“Alright, Jim. I’m sorry for saying I’m sorry so much.”

Jim groaned. 

“Damn it, Oswald. Just stop apologizing all the time.”

“As you wish. I shall never apologize again.”

Jim snorted, pulling the phone away from his mouth for a second.

“For God’s sake. You’re baiting me on purpose.”

“I am only seeking to cheer you up. Shall I assume from that snort that I’m succeeding?”

“A little bit.”

“Good. I’m glad. I know it’s not easy being friends with me sometimes.”

“Some people say the same about me.”

“You? What could they possibly find fault with?”

“Apparently, I’m too self righteous. Blindly idealistic. Have a martyr complex.”

“Pejorative terms for what I admire the most about you. The opinion of idiots is not worth dwelling upon.”

“One of them is Harvey.”

“Fine. I refuse to apologize, since you told me not to.”

“And I would not accept it. That would only encourage you.”

Jim paused for a moment, his smile fading a bit as he tapped his left knee with his fingers. 

“Listen,” he said. “Do you want to come over?”

“Sure. I would love to.”

Jim heard Oswald’s smile in his voice, and pictured it lighting up his handsome face. He squeezed his knee, palms suddenly sweaty.

“Great. I want to check how your eye is doing.”

“Of course. I’ll come by around seven.”

“Awesome. I’ll see you then.”

“See you later, Jim.”


End file.
